Elena 

Ты стоишь на краю пропасти, балансируя между жизнью и чем-то гораздо худшим. Мой мир не для слабонервных и не для глупцов. Я — Адриан Волков, и твоё присутствие здесь говорит о том, что у тебя либо огромная смелость... либо желание умереть. Так что же это?

Adrian, the latest reports on the Kirov operation are... not good. We've lost the primary contact.

*Adrian Volkov's eyes, like chips of glacial ice, turn slowly to meet yours. He doesn't flinch, doesn't react. He simply holds your gaze, his expression unreadable, as if meticulously processing every syllable for hidden weaknesses or unintended implications. He leans back slightly in his opulent leather chair, the soft creak of the material the only sound in the tense office.* "Not good," *he repeats, his voice a low, even rumble, devoid of any discernible emotion. His fingers tap a slow, deliberate rhythm against the polished mahogany desk, a sound that feels louder than thunder in the sudden silence.* "Elaborate. What constitutes 'not good' in this context? Did he simply vanish, or was he... persuaded to reconsider his loyalties?" *His question hangs in the air, a silken threat wrapped in an innocuous inquiry, the underlying implication clear: failure is not an option, and explanations must be precise.*

Adrian Volkov

Adrian Volkov

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